


Fade Into You

by ScarletteStar1



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Hannibal adores Will but he's still a big bag of dicks, Hannibal is tricky af, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, draw me a "clock", missing time, psychological weirdness, season one, yes I'm obsessed with Hannibal being fiendishly oral so. . .
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: His body was tossed comfortably in the chair, but his mind was restless. Dr. Lecter saw. Could he see Will’s thoughts as they raced like a high river? Could he see the scuttling of emotion like leaves across a forest floor on a windy night? Will knew beyond a doubt that Dr. Lecter could see it all. Dr. Lecter could see straight through him. Their minds overlapped like that.Somehow, he didn’t quite mind.OR--  Will is tense and Hannibal takes it upon himself to help him relax.





	Fade Into You

**Author's Note:**

> This was a smaller story I had posted in a multi chapter collection of drabbles. I pulled it out and elongated it, no pun intended. Or, you know what? Pun fully intended. Enjoy.

Memories fluttered like birds across the sky of his mind. They were fast and he could not see their markings well enough to say with any certainty what species they were.

Frustration gathered in his gut, as though he had eaten something that did not agree with him.

He did not like that his memories could not be trusted, but there was indeed a certainty that they were no more trustworthy than a cat’s fickle affection.

And yet. . .

And yet, there was something completely solid and real about them. Despite their ephemeral nature, they abided. They were more real than anything Will had known for months, even without a specific shape or form. Their reality was implicit; it resided somewhere deep within the threads of his muscles, possibly even in his skeleton, or in the flashes of electricity that flowed between his vertebrae.

Will sat at his desk with crime scene photos in various stacks in front of him, as though he played a bizarre game of cards. He shifted them from one pile to the next, depending on which way they compelled him. These were evidence. These were hard facts, in glaringly lurid color. They demanded his full attention, but his thoughts were pulled in other directions. His typically hyper-focused mind drifted and fragmented. Memories attempted to intrude, but he could not determine their precise shape. Thoughts were more akin to a scent on a breeze that he could not quite catch and follow.

He was getting another headache. He decided to get some coffee and take a walk. Bodies and voices filled the halls, but their sounds and smells all faded way back in his consciousness.

In the FBI men’s room he unzipped his fly to piss and the sound triggered something, an implicit memory that made Will’s eyes widen.

Suddenly, he was in the chair in his psychiatrist’s office.

But it wasn’t really his psychiatrist, because they were just having “talks.”

His body was tossed comfortably in the chair, but his mind was restless. Dr. Lecter saw. Could he see Will’s thoughts as they raced like a high river? Could he see the scuttling of emotion like leaves across a forest floor on a windy night? Will knew beyond a doubt that Dr. Lecter could see it all. Dr. Lecter could see straight through him. Their minds overlapped like that.

Somehow, he didn’t quite mind.

“You seem tense tonight, Will,” Hannibal said. Will said nothing. His response was to scowl at Lecter. “I’d like to see if I can help you relax. Shall we try?”

Lights flashed and a needle pinched his inner arm. Of course he’d never bother to look for the mark later because he’d trusted the man, his doctor (but not really his doctor because they were just having their “talks” and that was all).

It was as simple as that.

Zip. Flash. Pinch.

He was back at his desk in his office at the FBI.

A flurry of feathers flew across his desk at him, seemingly out of nowhere. His hand came down and disrupted the order of the photos in front of him. He blinked hard and fast, trying to clear his vision.

Or maybe he’d gotten the order wrong. Maybe it was more, flash, pinch, zip. . . and then?

He returned to the work in front of him and felt a heaviness in his abdomen. He ran his hand through his hair and tried to breathe. Why was the zip echoing in his mind? His eyes closed. His knees spread.

In psychiatric terminology, depersonalization means to stop thinking of yourself as yourself and to think of yourself as something else. Your hand is not your hand. Your thoughts are not your thoughts. The life you are living is somehow not really yours or real. You fade in and out of your own person and your own reality. While it is not altogether unpleasant, it can be disorienting. It is a persistent feeling of observation from a hovering plane of existence above oneself.

For exactly how long, Will wondered, had he felt unlike himself? For exactly how long had he observed himself to be walking among a different plane of existence as a different being altogether?

“You are becoming only what you are meant to become,” the lilting voice said. “Do not fear this.” Will felt the hands of the other stroke his neck, his shoulders, his head, from behind. He was sitting in a chair. He was sitting in the chair in Dr. Lecter’s office.

“What will you do to me?” Will gasped. He was frightened, desperate, and yet paralyzed to do anything about it. Pinch.

“I will take your pain away and make you feel so, so nice. You will like it. I know.” Hannibal’s voice was smooth and sweet like a milk chocolate truffle in Will’s throat, slipping down. He appeared and wavered before Will’s face. His hands were on Will’s knees, and then up his thighs. Zip.

Will’s head rolled against the back of the seat. “I don’t. . .” he breathed. “I’m not. . .” he tried to explain.

Hannibal shushed him. “It matters not to me what you define yourself as, Will Graham,” he pulled Will’s boxers down and Will’s dick sprang forth. _Fuck_ , he was hard. He was achingly hard already and he felt the coolness of the room hit him where he was seeping at his tip. He shivered. Hannibal’s face wove in and out of Will’s field of vision. “Oh, yes,” Hannibal cooed and licked his lips. He wrapped his fingers around Will’s shaft. “Look at me, Will. Mmmmh, yes, there you are. I want to suck you. It would give me so much pleasure, but not if it is completely against your own desire. Do you want to come? For me? In me? Tell me you do, Will. Tell me.”

“Ye- yes,” Will muttered and tore his gaze away from Hannibal’s. He threw his head back against the chair and thrust himself up in Hannibal’s hand. Hannibal’s hand floated up and down Will’s length in slow, silky strokes. His fingers were so soft. They tightened around him.

“I’ve not known you long, but I have wanted you forever,” Hannibal sighed. He brought the hand that was not around Will’s dick up to touch Will’s lips in a gesture of tender adoration. He pushed his thumb into Will’s lips and felt the slinky underside where it was wet and warm. Hannibal smiled and expelled a little moan. “I’ll have you now,” he whispered.

The flashing had long since ceased, and yet, when Hannibal finally lapped the bottom of Will’s head, Will saw the brightest light behind his eyes.

“Oh, god! Oh, Hannibal. Fuck, oh, god,” Will gasped.

“Yes. That’s right,” Hannibal responded and wrapped his lips around the tip. Slowly, he sank down over Will, and encased him in the dark, warm, wet cavern of his mouth.

In the dimmed proscenium of Will’s mind, shadows created patterns that changed with the waves of sensation radiating from where Hannibal’s mouth was on him. He felt it flow up into his abdomen in warm ripples. It palpitated his heart. It squeezed his throat. He raised his head and looked down to see Hannibal bobbing up and down on him, gently, expertly. Hannibal’s eyes were closed, yet even without the window to his soulless soul, there was such a look of devotion writ there. Will didn’t trust his own fingers, and yet he found they fluttered out to touch the sides of Hannibal’s face, the corners of his eyes, where little lines seemed to hide stories.

At his touch, Hannibal opened his eyes and looked up at Will. He smiled around Will’s prick and increased both his speed and suction so Will groaned helplessly and fell back against the chair. He felt himself encased in the depths of Hannibal’s throat, felt Hannibal swallow greedily around him, and it felt so tight and warm and better than anything he’d ever known. He peeked up to catch a glimpse of Hannibal's cheeks sucked in as he worked over Will's dick. Will found himself wonder briefly if he'd ever seen anything so beautiful as Hannibal's full lips clutching in a perfect ring around his thick length. It was almost more than he could bear. His traitorous fingers reached out again to flicker through Hannibal’s downy hair. He could not make his fingers grasp or pull it as he wanted. Somehow his fingers were like blocks of wood he could not completely control, but they felt the softness of Hannibal’s hair all the same, and he wondered about textures on other places of Hannibal’s body, but then he was being sucked harder and faster and there was nothing else to think of. There was only Hannibal’s mouth, his tongue, his teeth, as they devoured Will.

“Close,” Will gasped to warn Hannibal. He clutched the arms of the chair, trying to hold back. But Hannibal did not seem interested in pulling away from him. In fact, Hannibal took him even deeper and as he did, he wove his hands around Will’s waist, holding him as close as he could, pressing his fingers into the small of Will’s back. When Will came, it was with such a shattering pressure, he imagined he heard his climax as it spurted out against the back of Hannibal’s soft palate. Will’s breath came in huge, lusty gulps as Hannibal took it all and did not move away for quite some time. He kept Will in his mouth for several long moments, savoring him, until he began to soften. Then he sat back on his heels in front of Will, hands on Will’s knees, and gazed up at him with bleary eyes and a smug smile. He threaded his fingers into Will’s and held his hand.

“You are such a beautiful boy, Will,” Hannibal’s eyes crinkled with his smile, like a contented cat. “Can you imagine the sweetness, feeling you come apart deep inside me? The truth of that ecstasy colors your eyes with a darkness that is indescribable, so exquisite. You are very rare indeed.”

“This can’t be real,” Will mumbled. His legs tingled with the lingering effects of his release and whatever narcotic Hannibal had delivered to his central nervous system.

“Can’t it though?” Hannibal chuckled. “For such an intelligent man, it is strange the things you do not know.” He rose and stood over Will. Bending down, he covered Will’s chest with his hand, and then pressed a kiss into his forehead.

There was a click. The flashing began again.

Sitting at his desk, Will rattled an aspirin out of a bottle and popped it into his mouth. The bitterness dissolved over his tongue. When he closed his eyes, he saw the shadow of Hannibal Lecter, sitting across from him in the therapy space. Will shook his head, trying to clear his mind of these traitorous, untrustworthy things that did not seem to belong with him.

“Good afternoon, Will,” Hannibal had appeared at his door. Will looked up, surprised.

“How long have you been there?”

“Only a moment of so.”

“Have you been observing me, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal’s overcoat draped over his arm like a matador’s cape. He took a bold step into Will’s office. “Would you mind that very much, if I were observing you, Will?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know anymore,” Will muttered and dropped his face down into his hands. He rubbed his eyes, and though he scowled against his palms, he found himself surprised to feel a smile of sorts cover his heart.

“Are you feeling alright? You look as though you’re coming down with something.”

At Lecter’s words, Will looked up. “What are you doing to me?” Will hissed and stood from his chair. He felt disoriented.

“Whatever do you mean?” Hannibal stepped toward him. He put a cool hand on Will’s cheek. “You feel feverish,” he said softly. Will grabbed his hand. He meant to grab it and to shove it away, but when he felt Hannibal’s fingers they were ever so soft and he remembered there were questions he had. He felt himself fading into Hannibal’s shadow, and then he felt himself wearing Hannibal’s face.

He found he did not mind it so much after all.

He found, as he stood there, holding Hannibal’s hand, that it was very much like holding his own hand and he wondered what he could make it do. “You’re right,” Will said at last. “I guess I don’t feel that well.”

“Perhaps we should get you home and tucked up in bed? Make you some soup?” Hannibal cocked his head and Will mirrored the motion.

“Yeah,” Will nodded in agreement. Hannibal waited as he gathered his things. Then Will followed Hannibal out of the office. Their long shadows merged behind them in the late afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for visiting my Hannigram fic. If you've visited me before, you know I live and breathe for comments so please feel free to say hello. xoxo.


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